


Darkest Night, Brightest Stars

by JackShirogane



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Anger, Emotionally Repressed, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, I think the spoilers are just for Homeland, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seriously don't read this if you're just starting the series, Sleep Deprivation, Sleeping Together, Spoilers, Tenderness, i tried., slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackShirogane/pseuds/JackShirogane
Summary: "Heart of the night, finery of the day; my life, I am burning for your joy!"Self-indulgent oneshot in which Wulfgar is suffering nightmares as Drizzt is suffering from the remnants of his past, as they realize that sometimes the best medicine is the company of another.Takes place somewhere around the beginning of The Halfling's Gem.Also, I'm not sorry. Not even a little.Enjoy! <3
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden/Wulfgar Son of Beornegar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Darkest Night, Brightest Stars

The days had been long and hard since Drizzt’s return. Wulfgar, ever stoic, would never let on that something was wrong, but Drizzt’s fine-tuned senses had picked up on something, though he couldn’t quite tell what it was. Now, as Drizzt sat awake like he often did, he was starting to piece together his large friend’s plight. The bed across from him creaked and wailed precariously as the barbarian tossed and turned, grunting and whimpering extensively. Drizzt found himself inching over, eventually standing vigil at his friend’s side as he suffered. He’d suffered the same fate when he left the Underdark, but still he wondered what had thrown the great barbarian into such chaos. Drizzt sat gently on the side of the bed, gingerly placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Wulfgar was slick with a cold sweat, and would surely wake up frozen to the bone. Drizzt sighed and looked to his own blanket, which was sitting unused on the other bed.

It would be another sleepless night, he thought blankly. He stood up to retrieve the blanket and tossed it over Wulfgar. He looked at it for a second before pulling it up closer to Wulfgar’s face, against his better judgement. As the blanket laid across his neck, one blue eye cracked open. The sight of his dark friend standing over him jolted him awake and he sat up, pushing both blankets away. He leaned down for Aegis-fang before he was truly aware, his fingers brushing against the smooth adamantite as he wondered why exactly he had been woken up. He sat back up, noting how Drizzt was still in his nightclothes with his weapons still at his bedside.  
“Why did you wake me,” he groaned flatly. “Is there danger?”

“No,” Drizzt said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Wulfgar looked at him quizzically. “You were standing over me,” he said, cross from his poor sleep.

“You were sweating,” Drizzt said more firmly. “I gave you a blanket so you wouldn’t wake up cold.”

Wulfgar looked down at his bed and over at Drizzt’s, which was bare. “Why did you know that I was sweating?”

Drizzt looked away. He hadn’t planned to embarrass his tall friend by revealing that he’d been whimpering and turning, but it looked like he had to. He spent a few seconds thinking of a plan, but none came before Wulfgar’s deep voice cut back in.

“What are you planning, drow?” he snapped, so unlike the joyous Wulfgar that Drizzt knew during the day.

“You were having a nightmare!” Drizzt snapped back, equally as firm. He hated to break his stoic demeanor, but his worry for his friend had shown through.  
Wulfgar fell silent, his face suddenly devoid of all anger. “I apologize,” he choked through his pride. “My thanks, but I don’t need help, good drow,” he said sluggishly, forcing himself to appear more like himself. 

Normally Drizzt wouldn’t have pried, but he was equally as tired, sending his resolve away. “You’ve been tossing and turning every night since we began our journey to Calimport,” he said flatly. “Only cowards reject the help of friends,” he shot at Wulfgar, though he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

Surprisingly, the insult didn’t seem to sting Wulfgar. “I wasn’t taught that,” was all that he could muster to say.

“You weren’t taught to accept magic either,” he said, more empathetically this time. “Our childhoods were not so different as you might think.” 

Wulfgar pondered the statement for a second. He’d never heard a thing about Drizzt’s childhood, besides the formalities that it’d been in the lightless underground. “I haven’t slept well lately,” was all he could force out of his mouth.

Drizzt accepted the admission. “Perhaps I’ve pressed too far,” he said softly. “I understand that barbarians don’t tend to speak of percepted weaknesses.”

Wulfgar looked down at the ground, until he gathered his courage and stood. He squarely towered over the drow as he looked down on him heavily. All he could do was look at him, as though he could barely believe that the black skinned elf was really there. Drizzt met his gaze with equal intensity, though it was purely an act. He had never been intimidated by Wulfgar, but looking up at his nearly unnatural figure as his stare bore into him was more than a bit unsettling.

“What are you playing, Wulfgar,” he said as the gaze grew uncomfortably long.

Wulfgar looked away, and sat back on the bed. “I dream of you,” he finally admitted sheepishly.

“Me?” Drizzt questioned, his head unconsciously tilting a bit. “Why me?”

Wulfgar slumped over heavily, placing his tired head in his hands. “I thought you were dead,” he mumbled through his fingers. 

Drizzt said nothing.

“Don’t you understand, drow,” he snarled, looking back up and the surprised elf. “I thought you were dead.” He paused for a second, his eyes burning into Drizzt’s. “When I saw your blade in that rockfall, I wanted nothing more for it to be me instead,” he continued. “Whenever I close my eyes, all I can see is-” he paused for a second to relax his tensed muscles. “All I can see is your mangled corpse.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Is that what you wanted, drow? For me to admit to my greatest weakness?” 

Drizzt remained silent, shocked at the sudden confession. “I don’t think that compassion is a weakness,” he finally said as confidently as he could. 

“But if we were locked in a battle,” Wulfgar expressed, his teeth gritting. “If only one of us could survive, I would throw myself into the danger before you could.” His gaze never lost its intensity. “And for what? I know that you would never accept a sacrifice for your own life, but still, I would,” he said, his words echoing in Drizzt’s mind long after they had left Wulfgar’s mouth. He was thrown into a memory from his childhood, how Zaknafein had suffered that same fate. 

“I did once,” he said softly. “You’ve opened up to me, and I believe it’s only fair to do the same to you.” He sat on the bed next to Wulfgar, struggling not to fall into the depression that Wulfgar’s huge form had made. Wulfgar looked at him in the dark, his lavender eyes the only feature that didn’t look like pure shadow. “My father sacrificed himself so I could live,” he admitted bluntly. Wulfgar was taken aback, amazed that the great Drizzt was ever in such grave danger.

“To what?” Wulfgar asked, as respectfully as he could. “A horrible creature of the underground? What could be so powerful to defeat Drizzt Do’Urden?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Drizzt mumbled sarcastically, though Wulfgar’s innocence broke through his sadness. “My mother,” he said softly. “I was to be sacrificed to Lolth for my sins.” 

Wulfgar struggled to remember, but finally realized that Lolth was the dark spider goddess of Drizzt’s race. “For what?” he asked, his pride returning. “Running away? All young barbarian boys run away to face the tundra in the fall!” he exclaimed in his booming voice.

Drizzt couldn’t help but smile a little, though it was short lived. “Before I ran,” he said with a small chuckle, though tears were welling in his eyes. He hadn’t told a soul about the intimate terror of his past since he left. The only man who knew of the horror he’d seen was Montolio, and the knowledge had been lost again when he passed. “My house fell from Lolth’s favor, and my sacrifice was the only way to regain it.” he paused to collect himself. “My father died so I wouldn’t.” 

Wulfgar could tell that Drizzt had reached his limit, and he stopped pressing. “I lost my father prematurely as well,” he said in an attempt to comfort the trembling drow next to him. “But I avenged him and obtained his greatest dream, thanks to you,” he continued. “The horns of Icingdeath.” 

Drizzt’s eyes widened for a moment, before he spoke again. “I’m living my father’s dream of escape,” he said softly. “Thanks to you.”

Wulfgar stared at him. “We met long after you escaped,” he said. “I surely had no part in it.”

Drizzt took a deep breath. “I almost went back.” The admission of his deepest secret felt like a lifted burden, though the fear of Wulfgar’s reply tugged at the pit of his stomach.

“Recently?” Wulfgar asked thoughtfully, his mind swimming with thoughts he’d never had before.

“In Nesmé,” the drow replied. “I felt so hopeless, like no one would ever see past my color.” He looked up at Wulfgar. “Even you had assumptions about me when we met.”

“As you did me, I’m sure,” Wulfgar said sorrowfully. “I find that it’s not first impressions that matter.”

Drizzt said nothing in return. His eyelids sagged as though he’d battled for hours, as did Wulfgar’s; their battle with their own emotions had taken a toll on both the drow and the barbarian. 

“Why don’t you stay,” Wulfgar finally said awkwardly, climbing back into the bed. “I don’t think that either of us want to be alone right now,” he clarified, smoothing out both the blankets. When Drizzt looked at him in confusion, he blurted something out. “I’m sure you don’t know this, but I don’t like the dark very much.” He nearly cried out in   
embarrassment at the sudden statement, but Drizzt only smirked a little. 

“I do,” he chuckled, sliding gracefully into the spot next to Wulfgar. They laid down and Drizzt pulled the blankets over them, though only a few minutes had passed before they realized that it wasn’t going to work. The bed was average sized, but with Wulfgar’s huge form and his respectful distance from Drizzt, he was halfway over the edge.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Wulfgar mumbled into the dark.

“This is your bed,” Drizzt said. “You don’t have to forfeit your sleep for me.” 

Still, Wulfgar remained in his uncomfortable spot.

Finally, Drizzt sighed audibly and reached out, his hand stroking the corded muscles of Wulfgar’s massive bicep. Once the massive barbarian turned to look at him, he slid to the edge of the bed. He moved his hand then, placing it in the now empty space. With a resigned look, Wulfgar slid over to the spot, his eyes locking with Drizzt’s for only a moment. Wulfgar closed his eyes, sleep fast approaching. 

As he neared the peaceful blackness, he something shuffle next to him. Half asleep, he struggled to stay aware to investigate, as the weight of the drow shifted nearly silently towards him. Wulfgar struggled to lift his head, but was guided back down by a gentle, slender hand on his cheek, pulling his massive head into the drow’s chest.  
For the first time in years, Wulfgar felt small. Normally he appreciated the security of towering over nearly everyone, but now, in a particularly vulnerable moment, it felt good to be small. It felt good to be safe. 

“Sleep, mighty Wulfgar,” Drizzt murmured from above him. “It’s alright.” 

All that Wulfgar could muster was to half-heartedly turn further into Drizzt, and accept the shame of his actions in the morning.


End file.
